(continued from here)

Once the motorcycle had come to a full and complete stop, Violet let go of Dave, and disembarked. She had on a giddy little smile, and looked thoroughly exhilarated. "That was fun," she said earnestly, her fingers shaking a little as she tried to unfasten the helmet to get the stupid thing off.
It had been a louder, and colder ride than she'd expected - she'd forgotten to account for windchill, but as the weather was fairly mild, it hadn't been so bad. Having gotten the helmet off, she held it in one hand, and contemplated the bike. And Dave.

"Have you ever crashed?" she asked. Well, it would have been a stupid question to ask before she got on. It was okay now that the ride was over.

He grinned, flipping his visor up so he could talk to her. "Once. When I first got the thing. Smashed up my left knee--the kneecap's actually artificial now. Since then, never." He doesn't count the falls at the track, when he's doing crazy things. There's a reason they wear all that protective equipment.

He'd enjoyed himself too--he likes having girls' arms around him--and he hopes this isn't their first and last date.

Off with his helmet now--nice thing about shortshort hair is that it doesn't catch like it used to--and he holds out a hand for hers.

"Lemme put these away."

Violet handed him the helmet, smirking. "Just once? That's a pretty good track record, I'd say.... But I guess that depends on how long you've been driving," she teased. "If it's once in, say, five years, then you're probably due for another wipeout. Statistically speaking."

Of course, she was only joking. The only thing she knew about statistics was that you had a better chance of being struck by lightning than of winning the lottery. And everyone knew that, anyway.

"Had the thing since I was sixteen. Well, not this one, actually. My first one was kinda... more smashed than my knee." He was hit by a truck.

He put the helmets in that oh so convenient little compartment thing--they fit, but only just--and offered her his arm.

"Shall we then?"

He can play at being refined, when he wants to.

"Let's," she said agreeably. She took his arm, (thinking, That's so, ...so... old-fashioned. In a cute way.) and tried hard to keep in step. With her free hand, she adjusted her hoody. The darn thing kept slipping-...
Oh, wait. It was lighter all of a sudden. Hm. Go figure.

If she'd been listening, she would have heard as something small landed on the pavement. But she wouldn't have heard the soft footsteps that began following her, close on her heels. They were far too quiet for anyone to notice.

Well, Dave was raised as a gentleman, even if he doesn't always act the part--thus why he apologized for cussing in front of a lady--and of course that included old fashioned gallantry.

He even opens doors for ladies, which he did as they reached the entrance.

"Where d'you wanna sit?" he asked, looking around the diner.

Why did people always ask that, Violet wondered. It didn't matter one bit where they sat. To be obliging, she pointed out a table in the corner, by the window. Okay, so maybe she did have a preference. But it wasn't important or anything.
"How about over there?" she said.

The soft footsteps pattered into the diner, just before the door closed. They stopped inches away from Violet's shoes.

"Over there it is," he agrees amiably and escorts her to the table she chose. (Her preference is important to him, because he asked her out, and she gets to make decisions. At least some of them, anyway.)

If he had noticed that there were tiny footsteps, he would have wondered about his sanity.

And he pulled out a chair for Violet with a flourish. (Hey, you pick up these kinds of things when around actors all the time.)

"Why thank you," Violet said, half teasing. She sat down, primly smoothing her shirt. She could play a part, as well. She picked up a menu and pretended to peruse it. "Any recommendations this evening?" she grinned.

And, still unnoticed, the being belonging to those quiet footsteps made his way up onto the table.

"Well, their burgers are pretty good," he answered with an apologetic smile. He'd like to do better, for the first date, but his wallet doesn't bear anything particularly expensive. (Although, if things get a bit further, he'll probably do things like surprise her with flowers and stuff. Again, comes with the upbringing.)

"Hmmm..." Violet scanned the menu. "Mmm. Yeah, that sounds good. It sounds really good, actually. What are you having?"

Violet had never been one for dieting, counting calories, watching her weight... simply because she'd never needed to.

"Burger, fries, prob'ly a shake. Better save room for candy at the theatre. Or popcorn, whichever you like better." He shrugged. Dave is flexible. (And, like most guys, can eat about as much as a horse in one sitting, and still want more.)

And, of course, he's paying. What with this being a date and all.

"I think I'll have the same," Violet said. She was usually pretty easy to please, but she wasn't just being that way to make it easier on Dave. What he was suggesting sounded particularly appetizing. "Except, I'd rather have a cheeseburger. But pretty much the same."

She'd almost forgotten about the movie,... well, she'd think about it later.

"Cheeseburger it is then." He waved for a waitress to come over and leaned on the table.

"So. What d'you want to see t'night? And d'you want t'come and see A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum? I can get tickets for you and anyone else you want t'bring."

Of course, he can't actually take her along as a date, since he'll be up in the light booth.

"I, um... I don't even know what's playing," Violet confessed, tracing circles on the table with her index finger, "I would like to see the theatre show, I'm sure of that much. ... Did I already ask you what it's about? I don't remember if I did or not."
She thought she had, but she could be wrong. Oh well.

"Truth? I dunno either. Guess we'll find out when we get there, an' if nothing interesting's playing, we can see about renting something, maybe, and headin' to my place. If that wouldn't bother you, 'course. 's a bit early, I 'magine."

He tilted his head to one side, thinking.

"Nah, don't think so. 's based mostly on one of those ancient Roman plays--Pseudolus, I think--and 's about a slave who wants his freedom, 'cause he's lazy, and his master's son falls in love with a slave girl who's promised to some General, and the play's about him setting things up so that his young master gets the girl and he gets his freedom. 'S funny."

The menu, which Violet had set down on the table, slid about an inch closer to the edge. She didn't notice.

"Sure, s'alright with me. I hope there is something good on, though... it bugs me how much drivel comes out onscreen these days," Violet said, shaking her head and smirking. She wasn't picky about her movies, but some of them were just too stupid. "Anywa - the play sounds good. I'll definitely go see it."

"Just lemme know where you want to sit, and I'll arrange it. Middle of the house's usually considered best seats. Gonna bring any friends, or will it just be you? 'f's just you, we can go out for coffee, after."

Of course, he hopes it's just her. Since, after all, the whole point of giving her lots of chances to be at the same place as he is to get the relationship to progress beyond simply friends. Or acquaintances.

Whatever.

"Um," Violet bit her lip, looking thoughtful. Did she know anyone she'd want to take along? ...Well, Taryn said that she acted, she might want to go. And Keye had mentioned something about a Broadway show before...buuut... well, maybe some other time. She smirked innocently. "Nope. I think it's just me."

The menu inched a little closer to the table's edge.

Good thing she hadn't thought to invite Keye--Dave would have been very disappointed that he might not be the only one in her affections. (Not that she and Keye are anything like that, but how's Dave to know? Assumptions, assumptions... Shame, shame.)

"Great. I'll make sure to get you a good seat--don't think I'll be able to give you a ride there, though, 'cause I have to get there early. Running lights. But I'll be able to take you somewhere after."

In a taxi. Because a motorcycle would not work with the sorts of things people wear to the theatre.

"You'll want to wear something nice, ish, though. 's kinda traditional."

Violet grimaced slightly. "What kind of nice-ish?" she asked. "Does that mean a dress? Or can I just go with a nice blouse and pants, or a skirt or something?" She could always go find a skirt, if she had to. She wasn't fond of dresses, though. They weren't comfortable, and she'd avoid them if at all possible.
Then, the menu slid off the table and fell on the floor. Violet looked at it for a moment. She hadn't thought it'd been anywhere near to the edge. Oh well. She leaned over, picked it up, and plunked it back on the table, thinking nothing of it.

"Well... kinda whatever you want, I guess. Nice pants and a shirt'd be fine." Which would mean that he could take her on the motorcycle after. "Though I us'ally see girls in dresses and stuff." He shrugged.

"Really, 's whatever you want t'wear. Just less casual than this, I guess."

He frowned at the menu, but shrugged. It wasn't all that unusual, after all. He ignored it.

"Mmkay,.." Violet said agreeably, "I'll compromise, I'll turn up in a skirt or something. Something nice."

The menu began its slow journey to the edge of the table again. Violet's gaze rested on it for half a second, but she quickly looked away. If she ignored it, it wasn't happening. The menu falling once was an accident. But twice? And creeping along the table on its own? There was only one explanation for that,... and said explanation should not be tagging along on Violet's date.

"Skirt means a taxi ride. No way I'm putting somebody in a skirt on the bike." There's a very real possibility that it could get caught on something, you know. Which of course would be veryvery bad.

Taxi rides are a bit rough on his wallet.

"So what're you studying?"

The menu slipped off the table again. Violet retrieved it, and weighed it down with her hand.

"Ah." Violet said. "Okay, pants then."
Yep. Final decision. It was an easy choice to make - she'd pick 'motorcycle' instead of 'skirt' anytime.

"I'm studying, ...well... it's all first-year stuff, so nothing particularly interesting yet," she shrugged, "But it's not bad. I'm taking a course in writing, and I was taking an English course - which I dropped. I'm concentrating mostly on language-based subjects. Like French and literature and stuff."

He nodded. First year stuff. (Maybe qualified as an 'oops' if she was that young... though she was still old enough to make her own decisions and all that kind of thing. Good enough, for now.)

"Yeah, you mentioned dropping Barclay. He actually signed the form for you?" Since, after all, to technically drop a course and no longer be enrolled in it, one must have a signed form from the teacher.

A glance at the menu.

"Must be a draft."

"Um... actually, no. I haven't seen him since then, I just haven't been going to his class at all. I'd prefer to avoid him if I can... " Violet said guiltily. It made her look like a scaredy-cat,... Dr. Barclay hadn't actually harmed her, but she'd had a good enough scare that she wasn't going to take any risks.

"Hm? Yeah, must be a draft." she said. The menu didn't move anymore. She didn't even feel anyone trying to move it. Good. The little pest must have lost interest.
...and then the saltshaker began scraping slowly across the table.

He frowned. "That's not so good... I dunno if he'd be likely to sign it for you if you asked, but just not going to his class's kinda a bad idea. 'm surprised he hasn't tried to get at you about it yet."

Alexander, however, knows why Violet doesn't want to come to his class, and he understands (sort of.)

"If he's really that scary, maybe you could talk a friend into goin' with you 'r somethin'? Heck, I would, if that'd make you feel better. I'm not scared of Dr. B."

Ignoring the saltshaker. That's not possible, therefore it isn't happening.

"Yeah, I...well, no,... No, I don't think so," Violet shook her head. "I really don't want to go back to his class."

That's it ignore the mobile saltshaker. Violet didn't look at it - nope, nothing to see. It's not even happening, and if it falls, it was all an accident. She had half a mind to move the object back to its place, but that would be admitting it had been drawn to her attention.

"You sure? 'Cause it wouldn't be any trouble for me." And, like nice people should be, he's concerned about the effect it will have on her GPA--among other things--if she simply drops the course without having anything signed.

He's tempted to grab the saltshaker and figure out what's going on with it, but that would be acknowledging that he thinks he's going nuts.

She didn't want to refuse his help, but on the other hand, it probably wouldn't look so good, turning up to speak to Dr. Barclay with a student who'd previously failed his course... Violet smiled and shook her head. It was a tempting option, though.

"I just don't know if that's such a good idea, - I... um..." she trailed off, making the conscious decision not to exclaim in surprise when the saltshaker finally fell off the table. Fortunately it didn't land on the floor - it landed on Dave instead.

"Well, if you're sure... What the hell?"

Okay, he wasn't seeing things. And that rather hurt, and now there was salt all over his jeans.

He picked up the saltshaker and looked at it with a look of dismay and confusion and annoyance that was at once comical and endearing. Okay, no wheels, table wasn't wet or tilted...

Weird.

Violet blinked, her expression utterly blank. "How'd that happen?" she said slowly, "I'm sorry, did I shake the table or something?"

Fake. So fake.
The only contact she had with the table was where her hand was still holding down the menu. She'd had to say [I]something[I] though.

The little container of pepper began to move also, but Violet picked that one up, smiled apologetically. "Better make sure I don't do that again."

Again, fake-sounding.

"Yeah." The only reason he's accepting her excuse is because he utterly refuses to admit that anything unusual could possibly be going on. Violet is a nice normal girl, and this is a nice normal date.

"Anyway. If you're sure you don't want me t'come along or something, 's cool. I won't push it." He shrugged. He wasn't going to try to make her do something she obviously really didn't want to do...

"So, 'f there's nothing interesting at the theater, what movie'd you like to rent?"

Violet carefully placed the container of pepper as close to the center of the table as possible, so she'd see it if it started to move again. "Well, if the movie theatre doesn't have anything to offer,... then, um... I don't know. Some good, recent movie that I haven't seen yet, or else one of those cheesy old horror flicks, like 'Jaws' or 'Night of the Living Dead'. What do you think?"

"Jaws is fun. 's long as you don't want to watch any of the crappy sequels. Jaws II, III, and Jaws: Revenge. Crazy. First one was good, the rest were cheap knockoffs." This he knows because he went on a shark craze back in high school and watched all of them in one day.

He grinned. "So, Jaws if we can't find anything new and good. Or we could go to some crappy movie and throw popcorn at the screen." Which is something that would never be acceptable in a live theatre environment.

"I didn't see the sequels. I've found that movie sequels in general - well, they tend to suck," Violet smirked. "I only throw popcorn at the screen at strategic moments. You ever see the Rocky Horror Picture Show?"

She grinned. Violet? A Rocky Horror fan?
No.
Well, yes, actually. A little. But she'll be damned if she'll admit it to just anybody.

((Dave has, but Sammie has not. Excuse her ignorance.))

"Yeah. What 'bout it?"

Does that mean that Dave isn't just anybody? How flattering.

He likes her. She's normal, and she is definitely not a boy in disguise. (CoughZeke/Zoecough.)

If only the tableware would stop moving.

((Hee. S'okay. ))

"Nnnothing," Violet shrugged, with an innocent smirk. Then she chose to elaborate. "Ah, well. Okay. I went to a local showing of the Rocky Horror movie.. once or twice. There were all these die-hard fans there and they knew the movie off by heart. Talking back to the screen all at once, inventing lyrics to the songs, tossing food ... gods, it was fun. Um. Funny, I mean. It was just the idea of popcorn-throwing that made me think of it."

The tableware, it seemed, had grown bored of questing across the table.
Who knew what else was being planned.

He grinned. "I know some people who do that kinda thing. Me, I tend t'watch the movie, and make fun after. Unless it's a really bad one; then I throw popcorn at the screen 'cause somebody's gotta."

Let's hope it's nothing too embarrassing for Dave, shall we?

Oh, and speaking of tableware, here comes their food.